@hexadxx
Everything was still. Uncommonly still, and yet that isn’t what caught the mystics attention. it was the faint crumble of wallpaper in the corner and the cracking of moulding along the floor. His head raises to glance around the room and notes how the wood door began to warp. Frames and light fixtures tarnished while paintings faded. “What is it?” Jean hurried to his feet and out to look out into the manor from the top of the stairs. Out the cracking windows he could see headlights break through the tree line and that was all the knowing he needed. The manors wood floors lost their shine and wore down to woodgrain for all but a train into another room, its way of telling the mystic to move, which he did. In the room that was once ordained and furnished now only had ghostly cloths over withering furniture. His sanctuary would be found behind a bookshelf where a few enchantments and the houses will allow him to be masked by the minds eye. A tactic that barely eased the mystics panic but will have to do. And just in time, footsteps and voices are barely muffled behind the crumbling walls.
